Cain slammed the door of his study shut, the sound echoing through the safehouse.
He paced the room, his anger simmering just below the surface.
The news of Marlo's assassination and his subsequent framing had lit a fire in his belly, a burning desire for revenge that threatened to consume him.
He ran a hand through his hair, his mind racing.
He needed to do something, anything, to strike back at the dons and their many allies.
But what? He was a wanted man, his every move scrutinised, his every action anticipated.
Just as his frustration peaked, a soft chime emanated from the special communications device on his wrist.
He stopped pacing and stared at the device, his eyes narrowing.
It was a secure line that only a select few people knew how to use.
He activated the device,
